


Trying to Spell Both Our Names at Once

by stellahibernis



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Getting Back Together, M/M, Other characters in minor roles - Freeform, Pining, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Temporary Amnesia, mostly the aftermath, that's not what you're supposed to do under steeplechace pier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-23 00:38:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11978442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellahibernis/pseuds/stellahibernis
Summary: Steve is back in New York, the Avengers team keeps growing, and his life is settling into a pattern of missions, training, and the regulatory work in between. On one outing he gets hit with a spell that erases his memories, but he gets them all back courtesy of their own magic experts. Still, it doesn’t mean there are no consequences.He deals with having his head messed with over time, and thinks there’s something probably wrong with him, since it’s easier to get over with than Bucky having decided to have nothing to do with him once they had returned home.He well knows he’s not the only person in the world to be left by someone who once promised forever. People divorce all the time and get over it, he should too. It’s just proving tricky, and Bucky seeming to be completely fine doesn’t help the matter.





	Trying to Spell Both Our Names at Once

“It’s just a spell, you’ll be right as rain in no time.”

Tony, as the man who owns the lab they’re in had introduced himself, bustles around, looking at the results of all the scans they’ve done, putting up a good act of confidence. 

Steve, which is the only thing he knows about himself right now, sits in the comfortable chair he was given as soon as it was apparent he wasn’t content to stay lying down after he regained consciousness. He’s waiting, trying not to fidget. There are people in the lab, coming and going, and they tell him they’re his friends, but it’s hard to find connections to any of them since he doesn’t remember. He woke up on a table in this same room with knowledge of how to do arithmetics and tie his shoes, but no recollection of his past, or the people around him. So far he likes Sam the best, since he’s the one that a moment ago realized he must be hungry, and disappeared to find something for him to eat.

Steve is hungry. Other than that, he’s finding it hard to define.

The people around him do their best to not appear worried, but they more or less fail at it. Steve thinks he probably should be worried too, since it’s not natural to not remember anything, but he isn’t. Intellectually he knows he should have memories spanning further than a few hours ago, but he doesn’t, and he doesn’t miss them either. There’s no sense of him lacking something, no emptiness inside his head. There isn’t really even curiosity about what kind of a life he’s lead before, no desire to get it back. It’s hard to miss something when you don’t know what you’re supposed to miss. He just is, and he’s waiting to see what’s going to happen, not for something to come back. His instincts say he’s safe enough with the people that call him a friend, and it’s a good enough start.

Sam comes back with sandwiches, and they eat but don’t really talk. There doesn’t seem to be much to say, since there is no context at all, to anything really. Steve lets the time pass in silence, and while Sam looks like he wants to talk, he doesn’t seem to be able to figure out where to start. 

Steve’s just done eating when there are some new people coming in, they are supposedly experts on spells. There’s a woman named Wanda who apparently is Steve’s friend too, and a man in a cape called Stephen Strange who feels more like an acquaintance based on his behavior toward him.

They look at all the scans, then Wanda does something that she says allows her to see in his head, red haze clouding Steve’s eyes for a moment. All of the doctors, scientists, and magicians confer with each other for a long time but in the end they agree and tell Steve Wanda is going to cast a spell to recover his memories. He notes that people around him again try to not look too worried, appearing less confident than all their assurances that it’s not a problem, that he’ll get everything back. Steve isn’t worried, considering there really isn’t anything for him to lose, and he’s completely relaxed when the red light envelopes him.

For a moment there is the calm emptiness, then it’s like a light is switched on inside his head, and he remembers.

Steve remembers everything; remembers who he is, remembers the battle with the Asgardian and the sickly green light hitting him, remembers he lives again at the Compound, and herds around the considerably larger group of Avengers than before. It all comes back, fact after fact, and with them comes a lot more.

The pain slams into him hard, and it’s like his heart is breaking once more. Over the last however many months he’s been getting good at holding it back, especially since he’s had a lot of practice with ignoring his pain, but now he couldn’t prepare for it since he didn’t know there was anything to worry about.

Steve squeezes his eyes shut, taking a few deep breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth, letting it all settle. There’s a warm hand on his shoulder, Sam’s unmistakable steady presence.

“You okay, Steve?”

Steve makes himself open his eyes and at least attempt a smile. “It’s just, you know, a lot coming all at once.” 

He knows better than to dismiss it by saying he’s fine, because it wouldn’t work on Sam, but he’s getting pretty good with his dodges. Sam accepts it with a nod that’s a little bit too knowing, and gives space for Wanda to come and hug Steve. The others gather around too, and Steve chats with them all a bit, but excuses himself soon after, saying he’s tired.

He’d earlier changed from his combat suit to scrubs for the tests, but he’s still grimy, and he takes a long shower, trying to get the mess inside his head settled, trying to pack the painful things away where they aren’t right on top of everything.

When he comes out there’s a message on his phone, from Nat who’s on an undercover mission in Slovakia.

_ Hang in there, call me if you need to talk, or for anything. _

***

Steve is strongly suggested, by most of the people on the compound it seems, that he should take a few days off, and he knows arguing wouldn’t lead anywhere. So he does, albeit grudgingly. Personally he thinks work would be just the thing for him, would help him not to concentrate on his personal life. But Sam pulls out the stern look that Steve sometimes suspects Natasha has taught him, and Steve decides he can’t take another lecture about self-care, so he folds. Sam means well, Steve knows, and everything he says is smart, but quite frankly, right now he doesn’t want to be smart.

He decides to go to the city since he has the time, even though he knows it’s probably not a good idea.

Truth is, his life on surface level is fine. They have resolved the issues caused by the Sokovia Accords both within the team and in the larger scale, the Avengers are a working group with regulations they can live with, chief among them that enhanced people are considered humans and not weapons. The personal rifts between them have been repaired; if not perfectly, at least well enough that they can work together.

Steve is happy with it all, the team finally works at the best level he can realistically expect for now, and their group is steadily growing. It is sometimes frustrating, especially since most of them aren’t trained like soldiers, so trying to get the group to function is at worst like herding cats, but Steve believes it’s worth it.

On his first day off Steve sleeps late, has a big breakfast and heads toward the city. He switches from car to train on the way, not fancying trying to navigate the traffic, and besides, he likes the trains. They’re not the same he remembers, but they feel familiar enough. He gets out at the Grand Central Station, and as he emerges to the street he looks up to the old Avengers Tower. It has new owners now, and Steve thinks it’s better this way, the headquarters being upstate; at least if someone decides to take shot at them at home, there won’t be a host of civilians right in the neighborhood. Steve misses living in the city, though.

He thinks of getting a cup of coffee from the cafe nearby, one he used to frequent during the year after DC when he lived in the Tower. Only he pauses at the sidewalk, unable to go any closer.

Bucky is sitting at one of the tables outside the cafe, smiling and talking to the waitress who smiles back at him the way Steve remembers girls smiling to Bucky all too clearly. He’s completely at ease, more relaxed than Steve has seen during this century. He looks different too, and yet so achingly familiar. His hair is short now, tamed with product, he’s clean-shaven, and he’s wearing a crisp white shirt and a jacket over it, effortlessly stylish. For Steve it’s almost like he’s been displaced in time again, as if he’s looking at the Bucky from before the war, except updated to the current day.

Bucky doesn’t see him, or more likely pretends he doesn’t. He’s got sunglasses on, which means Steve can’t see his eye lines, but he knows well enough how much Bucky can really notice without apparently keeping an eye on the surroundings. And it’s not a far fetched conclusion at all, considering Bucky hasn’t wanted to be in Steve’s presence for months.

Steve turns on his heel on the sidewalk, heading back for the train station. He’ll go back to the car and drive up to the compound, the trip to the city was even worse idea than he’d expected.

***

It’s been nearly a year since the day Steve thought things were really looking up, only for his hopes to be dashed down. Against all obstacles thrown at them they’d sorted out the differences within the team; they’d gotten some help from circumstances, from the world really needing the Avengers to defend them, but they’d all grasped the chance and the outcome had been the voiding of the Accords and introduction of a new, better, fairer legislation.

Bucky too had been called from stasis as per his request to wake him up if there was need for him, and he too had been pardoned. Even better, the Wakandans had figured out how to get rid of the conditioning, so not only was Bucky free legally speaking, he got back his personal freedom too.

Steve had hoped that day, had hoped they’d find a way to live together again. The wish had born from the moments of connection during their way to Siberia and afterward in Wakanda. It had been easy to talk to Bucky, and Steve had thought there was enough common footing for them to make it, for them to find a way to move forward. It had felt real then, not just something he’d made up because of desperation. And despite everything that happened in Siberia, despite the consequences, those moments had been enough to convince Steve there was something to hope for.

Only it wasn’t to be. Bucky had told Steve he needed space, wanted a clean start. That it was better if they went their separate ways, since they’d already been pulled apart by life.

Steve could do nothing but to agree, because Bucky isn’t his to keep. They can only be together if both of them want it, and Bucky doesn’t anymore. It doesn’t matter that they once made promises to each other, just the two of them because back then it wasn’t legal for them to be everything to each other. They made it through poverty and illness and hiding, had always stuck together, had always thought it was worth it, despite the hardship. It had only been the last weeks of their war that had torn them apart, and even then it hadn’t been their choice. They’d made it through so many things, but apparently what they used to have couldn’t last through everything.

Steve had let Bucky go, and he’d tried to move on, the way one should. After all, he isn’t the first person, nor the last person, to be left by someone they love, and people in general get over it. He should too. Apparently it’s just taking him a lot of time.

Now it’s months later, and Steve feels like he’s stagnating, the pain of his broken heart fresh anew since he had those easy hours of forgetting, hours during which he didn’t have to hurt. Still, he wouldn’t change a thing, he’d rather take the pain with memories, they are precious to him, and he doesn’t want to let them go. 

Bucky doesn’t want him anymore, and the memories are all that Steve has left.

***

There are days when Steve is sad, and there are days when he’s angry. Surprisingly it’s the anger that proves more difficult to handle, despite how he’s been angry his whole life it sometimes feels. Now the problem is that it lacks direction, he doesn’t know if he’s angry at himself, at Bucky, at the world in general, or all three.

There are also days when he really can’t tell whether it is sadness or anger that he feels most of all.

It’s been the usual state for him for months now, and he continues to do the same thing he has so far, which is to bury himself into work. Luckily there are always things for him to do; there’s no need to pretend to be occupied while wrangling the Avengers. He’s soon back to where he was before the memory loss incident, at least on the surface, which means Sam still bothers him about taking time off but other than that no one thinks he’s any worse for wear.

Truth is a bit of a different matter.

Wanda and Strange told him all of his memories have been returned, but there are nights when Steve lies awake and can’t help wondering if it’s true. How would they know, since there’s no way of seeing all of someone else’s memories, it’s not even possible to consciously access all one’s own. Steve doesn’t feel like he’s missing anything, but he’s not taking it for a proof. After all, he didn’t feel like he was missing something when it all was gone.

There’s no way to know, and he finds it hard to trust the assurances or his own intuition. He’s lost so much in his life, and he doesn’t want to lose the memories too, not of his mother, not of Peggy, not of Bucky. He’s grateful for his new friends, but they all have only known him as he is now, after the serum overhauled him. There isn’t anyone around who knew him as nature built him, and because of that he sometimes finds it more difficult to remember himself. His life before the war is starting to feel less real, and it doesn’t help that his memories recorded after the serum are much clearer than those from before he got it. It’s as if he’s losing a part of himself, and he doesn’t know how to stop it.

He knows too, that even if Bucky was to come back to him, it wouldn’t solve all the problems. After all, someone else can’t carry a person through life, everyone has to do it for themselves. He knows all this, but Steve thinks it would help just enough, they could help each other to halt the tide, to anchor themselves. Then again, it seems that Bucky is doing perfectly fine and isn’t missing what they had at all, content to flirt with women. Maybe Steve is the only one that’s stuck.

***

Nat comes back five weeks after the memory loss incident. Steve finds out when he comes in from a run one morning and she’s sitting in his kitchen, looking through his sketchbook. In general they have a tacit agreement that everything Steve leaves somewhere visible around his apartment is fair game, and she won’t go rifling through his drawers. She’s also brought breakfast, so Steve doesn’t mind at all the impending interrogation. He’s missed her too.

She hugs him tight, and talks about her mission while they eat, telling a very entertaining story about an unexpected foot chase. Steve knows she’s there to talk about what happened to him, and that she allows him to eat first means she’s thinking he deserves a bit of a kid glove treatment, instead of being smacked on the head and told to get things together. That in itself gives Steve pause, because while he knows he’s struggling, the reasons for it feel less than rational sometimes.

They’re lingering over cups of coffee, when she finally gets to the point. “The thing about memory alteration and other kinds of messing with your head is that even if you recover fully, it still happened, and you don’t get over it. Can’t. And the way you end up struggling with it might seem strange or unreasonable. Also it’s hard to understand if it’s never happened to you.”

Steve can only nod, of course she would know, unlike the others that have been around over the last few weeks and seem to think Steve is doing fine.

“So, what are you struggling with?” she asks then. “And don’t try to dodge, I know you are having a hard time, even when you seem to have been able to convince others you’ve got the hang of it.”

Steve capitulates, knowing there’s no use arguing with her about this. It’s a relief too, to tell her about his uncertainty, how he’s finding it hard to trust that he does have everything back. 

“You can’t know,” she says, very frank, and Steve is glad she just says it, doesn’t offer any platitudes. “You even may have lost something, and I know dealing with it is a pain, but you’ll find a way to live with it. Explains why you’ve been drawing more than usual recently, and all of it is scenes from your memories.”

“Yeah, it helps a bit, to put things on paper. Can’t draw everything, but at least the most important ones.”

“So I see. This hasn’t made it on the paper before, though.” 

Nat flips open a page where Steve has sketched a sleeping Bucky, visibly much younger than he is now, he’d been just nineteen at the time. He’s also clearly naked, even if the sheet partly covers him. It’s true too, that Nat hasn’t seen this kind of drawings of Bucky, since Steve has avoided that particular subject since he woke up in the future, even when Bucky has always been a staple in his repertoire. Until now that is, because it has always felt too fragile, too painful to put on paper. Now it feels too fragile to not make it permanent.

“Did you know? That we were —” Steve gestures at the sketch, suddenly curious, since Nat doesn’t seem surprised at all.

“Well, not specifics, I didn’t put too much thought in it. I mean, I knew how important he was and is to you, I knew how much you’d be willing to risk for him. It was enough for me to understand your actions, I didn’t need to dig in any further to see the exact shape of the thing between the two of you.”

It makes sense, even if Steve has never really thought about it like that. Then again, her upbringing means that she’s capable of seeing things from a slightly different angles than those of them who’ve had normal childhoods do.

“It’s just, even now it has these two sides, I’m all the more conscious of my memories now, because they’re all I have of us. And it also feels like I’m even more reliant on them, not capable of moving on, like I maybe should. Definitely should.”

Nat takes his hand. “It’s okay to hold onto them, and moving on, that’s tricky too. It’s not always as easy as it might seem from the outside.”

Steve doesn’t ask about the last part, there’s something very deliberate about how Nat says it, which makes him think she’s talking about Bucky. Steve knows Nat talks to Bucky occasionally, he’s glad she does, due to their similar experiences, and that Bucky isn’t all alone. At least there’s someone Steve trusts keeping close to Bucky, making sure he’s staying afloat. Still, he doesn’t ask, because it feels like it would be digging himself deeper, holding onto things he should be letting go.

***

Steve’s life stays the same, days turning into weeks and months. It doesn’t get better, not really. Certainly not better than it was before his head got scrambled up. That part he does learn to live with, learns to deal with the knowledge that he isn’t the same he was before it happened, even if superficially, or maybe even internally the changes are tiny. He’s less successful with trying to get over the latest heartbreak. Sometimes he wonders why it’s so hard to let go of Bucky, when he can bounce back from someone getting in his head.

Maybe it’s that there have been so many heartbreaks already in his life, he’s just too close to his limits to easily recover anymore. Days pass. Weeks pass.

Steve’s not quite sure how Nat and Sam manage to maneuver it, but he ends up having a long weekend, four consecutive days off, which hasn’t happened in ages. To make sure he actually does take the time, Nat appears at his office with his duffel packed full, won’t let him go back to his rooms, and instead walks him to the car. Steve knows better than to argue, especially since Sam turns up too to see him off.

He starts driving, not really paying attention to where he’s going, just taking turns at random at intersections. Or maybe not so randomly, considering he finds himself driving down Ocean Parkway as the sun sets. Brooklyn around him is familiar and foreign all at once, a wound that has never closed. He’s hungry, so he parks near a diner and orders a burger that turns out to be nice and juicy, accompanied by fluffy golden fries and a thick milkshake. As he eats, he googles the hotels nearby, and calls in to see if they have room.

He ends up getting one of the fancier rooms of his hotel, not that he cares, and soon enough he’s lying on the bed and staring at the ceiling, sleep far away. He hasn’t been to Brooklyn much since he woke up in the future. He’s tried occasionally, but it has never stuck, never felt quite right. Now that he’s there, it feels like he’s standing on a watershed of some kind. Maybe this is when he’ll find a way to make this new Brooklyn work for him. Or maybe he’s there to say goodbye.

***

The next day he walks around, taking in the sights. He’s got his sketchbook with him, and he even draws a little. He goes to Coney Island and ends up sitting on a bench on Steeplechase Pier, staring over the waves reflecting the midday sun. His sketchbook is forgotten next to him, inspiration not forthcoming. There aren’t that many people around, since it’s a work day for most, nor is it that warm either, fall already crisp in the air. It’s quiet enough that Steve finds it easy to be lulled into his thoughts. The sound of the waves is calming, steady and constant, and he feels like he’s in peace for the first time in a while.

The peace is shattered when a familiar voice asks, “You okay, Steve?”

Bucky is dressed a bit more casually than the last time Steve saw him, a t-shirt under the jacket instead of a dress shirt, and the sunglasses are in his hand now. For a random onlooker he might seem perfectly at ease, but Steve picks up the tension in his jaw.

Steve doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry, definitely one or the other, or maybe just yell toward the sky. “Not even remotely.”

Bucky looks stricken, probably not by the words; Steve thinks the question wasn’t really about Bucky trying to find out, since the answer should be obvious from his general demeanor. It must be the frankness of admission, and Steve well understands, since even he knows he usually would rather have his teeth drawn off than admit struggling with something.

Bucky flounders a bit before asking, “Can I sit here?”

It’s petty and bitter, and still Steve turns to look back toward the sea. “I don’t see why you would want to.”

There’s a long pause, and Steve doesn’t even glance at Bucky. When they came back to New York Bucky had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with Steve, and now that he’s here, Steve isn’t feeling at all charitable.

Finally Bucky says, “I’m here to find out how much being an idiot has cost me.”

Steve looks up then, and gestures at the space next to him. He waits for Bucky to sit down, but doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t dare to ask, doesn’t even want to think about what Bucky means. There is a conflict of emotions inside him, there’s a hope that wants to swell, only to be squashed up by all the reminders of how many times he’s been disappointed. 

Bucky too looks out across the ocean, and despite all the times Steve has heard people say eye contact is the sign of sincerity, he doesn’t let it bother him. Back in Wakanda it wasn’t easy for Bucky to look at people if he had to say something important, and Steve knows it didn’t meant he was hiding something, just shielding himself. It’s probably still the case, and he just wants the truth, however it comes out.

“After everything in Wakanda I didn’t want to go back to fighting,” Bucky begins, and Steve makes himself listen and not interrupt him, no matter how much he would want to. “There was just too much in my head, I remembered again, which is mostly good, but it’s a whole different matter of carrying it all around, dealing with it. And you were there looking at me like you used to, and I couldn’t explain I’m not the same.”

Steve has to interrupt then. “That’s not what I meant, I just wanted to know you, the person you’ve become. And I wanted you to know I still saw more than what they tried to make of you.”

Bucky shakes his head. “No, I know now. Turns out I was the one holding on to the past too much, I didn’t consider how much you’ve changed. I know you have, I just didn’t realize it then. Maybe didn’t want to acknowledge it. So I took distance, thought I’d be able to make a life for myself that way, but it doesn’t work. Took me a while to realize why.”

“You seem to be doing fine,” Steve says, letting the bitterness color the tone. He should probably try and rein it in, after all Bucky is trying now, but he’s tired.

“I’ve become good at hiding. Too good.” Bucky is patient now, in a way Steve remembers from before the war, and it comes to him suddenly, Natasha saying moving on isn’t always as easy as it seems. Maybe he can rely on the hope, just a bit.

“Now what?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky says, letting out a sigh. “Try to forge on, and depending on whether you want, maybe we can try again.”

“A clean slate?”

“No. I’m not asking for that, I don’t think we can or even should just push it all away. I’m just asking for another chance.”

Steve considers it, considers the months of heartbreak. Now he knows he wasn’t the only one suffering from it, but it doesn’t make it easier. Bucky keeps looking across the waves, shoulders tense. Steve punches him then, not hard at all, telegraphing the move, but he still gets Bucky fairly well on the jaw. It feels satisfying, he can’t deny it. Right after he hauls Bucky in, pulls him close. Bucky lets his head rest on Steve’s shoulder, face buried against his neck.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, resting his cheek over Bucky hair, cut short enough to curl into soft waves, not much product in it today.

“That’s supposed to be my line. I think I rather deserved to be punched.”

“Not that, idiot. I’m not sorry for that. I just think I should have done better, could have talked to you more, really attempted to help you see I didn’t want back to past. I just wanted a chance here.”

Bucky raises his head but doesn’t move away. Instead he finally looks at Steve. “Wanted?”

“Still do,” Steve admits, because he thinks now it might be worth it to let it out, now it might not end in disappointment.

And it doesn’t, Bucky nudges Steve’s nose with his, and presses their lips together. Steve doesn’t hesitate, just brings his hand up to bury it in Bucky’s hair, and kisses for all he’s worth. It’s a new feeling, because he’s never kissed like this, in the middle of the day in a public place for everyone to see. It’s exhilarating, to know they now can.

They pull apart a bit after a few minutes, resting their foreheads together. Bucky’s lips are slick and redder than usual, and it’s Steve’s new favorite thing in the future.

“I don’t know if this makes it better or worse, but maybe you should know,” Bucky says.

Steve has no idea what this might be about, but he squeezes his hand that’s resting on Bucky’s waist a bit, encouraging.

“After DC, I know I stayed away, but at first it really was knowing you were around too that helped me go on. It was hard, getting through a withdrawal from all the drugs HYDRA had pumped into me, and then my head trying to sort itself out. It was pretty miserable, and most things coming back were just making it worse. You were the only thing that wasn’t awful at first, even if I could only handle a memory, nothing more.”

Steve pulls Bucky closer again, his heart aching again the way it has ever since he learned about how Bucky had gotten through the decades. He’s wondered about it, and his imagination has been very active, but hearing it from Bucky makes it yet more intense. Bucky clings to him too, his breathing unsteady, wetness trickling down Steve’s neck, and they stay like that, seeking comfort in each other.

It’s not at all what Steve expected when he woke up in the morning, and he wouldn’t change it for anything.

***

The night falls around them as they sit on the pier. They did leave their seats earlier to get hot dogs and fries from Nathan’s for dinner, but they came back again, without even discussing it. To Steve it feels like they’re both hesitant to leave, as if a spell will be broken when they do. For all that he hopes, he finds it hard to convince himself that it’ll all be well now, or even that they’ll be able to fix the rift between them permanently enough they won’t be torn apart again when they go back to their lives.

They talk about what they’ve done over the months they didn’t see each other, although it seems that Bucky is fairly knowledgeable of Steve’s life, even outside of the aspect that ends up in the news. He says Natasha has been keeping him up to date even if he’s never asked her to, and for a second Steve feels a sting that she talked to Bucky about him, and not to him about Bucky. Then again, as he thinks about it, it’s maybe better this way. He doesn’t think he would have handled their separation at all if she’d been giving him updates. She was probably just doing what she thought was the best for the both of them. He wonders if she was just biding time, waiting to push them back together when an opportunity would present.

Bucky for his part has been consulting on security, but not for some big corporations, he’s still fairly distrustful of those since many of them had ties with HYDRA. Instead he’s been helping to review processes at hospitals and with relief organizations that go to crisis areas. He’s been giving some self-defence classes too, and volunteering at shelters for homeless and those hiding from domestic violence.

“Did Nat help you with setting up contacts?” Steve asks.

“Yeah, she did.” Bucky looks at Steve then, his clear eyes assessing. “Are you mad that she helped me?”

“No,” Steve says immediately, then elaborates since Bucky must know as well it’s not quite as simple as that. “I mean, it’s going to rankle for a while yet that you kept pushing me away, and let others in. But, on the other hand, I’m truly glad you didn’t have to do it all by yourself, and she’s one of the people I trust the most. I’m glad she was there for you.”

Bucky doesn’t apologize again since Steve has already told him not to. They both know it’s not going to be simple and straightforward to fully repair what’s between them, for all that they’ve made major strides since DC and even since the beginning of the day. The most important thing is they both want to try, and Steve decides to believe that it’s going to be enough. 

They kiss too, a lot more, and it doesn’t stop being magical, but Steve does manage to stop thinking of people seeing and recognizing them. He doesn’t care. Maybe no one pays attention after all, at least not enough to post a celebrity sighting on Twitter since there’s no descent of paparazzi on them.

Hours pass, the beach empties, and it gets dark. Steve hasn’t looked across the waves in hours, he’s been keeping an eye on Bucky all the time, and only a part of it is because he can’t help worrying Bucky might still disappear. The rest of it is just that he has always liked looking at Bucky, for all the different reasons, and now he can, now Bucky’s there and they don’t have to worry about who might draw dangerous conclusions about it.

It’s not a fairy tale for them, even though the afternoon has felt something like it to Steve, as if it’s not quite his life. All the normal worries, stress and exhaustion have been removed for now, they’re distant and matter less. They still exist, and he knows happily ever after in the real life doesn’t mean nothing will ever go wrong, but at midnight Bucky again bends closer and kisses Steve in a new way, with more heat and intention than before, and Steve melts into it, opens himself up to Bucky. It lasts only for a few seconds before Bucky pulls away and grins at him, pecks him once more on the lips before standing up and pulling away from Steve’s hands that automatically reach after him.

Bucky vaults over the railing of the pier, dropping down onto the sand, and when Steve goes to look he’s still standing there, waiting. He hasn’t disappeared at a stroke of midnight as Steve irrationally feared for a second there, and it brings him back to reality. He can have this.

“Come on, Steve.”

Steve doesn’t think, just drops down, and Bucky pulls him under the pier, into the deep shadow where it’s dark enough that it’s impossible even for Steve to see more than shapes. Bucky backs him up against one of the concrete supports and kisses him again, mouth hungry and demanding, fingers digging into his sides. The arousal that flared inside Steve with that last kiss on the pier ignites fully now, and he pulls Bucky closer, wants to feel every last inch of him.

Bucky kisses him, sucks at Steve’s tongue and pushes his in. He presses even closer, slotting their hips together, and Steve can’t help the groan that escapes when he feels Bucky’s hardening cock against his. Steve settles into it, reveling in the closeness, and it feels like he’s finally come home. Part of him registers there are differences, that Bucky doesn’t kiss the same now compared to how he did before the war or during it, but he doesn’t care. The key thing is that Bucky’s kissing him, when Steve thought he’d never get it back. And he probably doesn’t kiss the same way he used to either. For now, all he wants it to learn this new Bucky, find out what makes him tick and what he likes.

Bucky moves to kiss Steve’s neck, and Steve gulps in air, lightheaded with want.

“What are we doing?” he asks, the last word coming out as a gasp because right then Bucky bites him at the corner of the jaw. Bucky stills at the question and Steve hurries to reassure, “I’m not complaining, just, you know, curious.”

Bucky smiles against his neck, licks a stripe from his collarbone up to the earlobe and Steve’s hips twitch.

“I always wanted to blow you under the pier, but never did.”

Bucky’s tone is almost conversational, and it really registers to Steve what he said only when Bucky starts to open his jeans, and it’s yet another head rush of arousal. Steve doesn’t protest, even when he knows this is definitely pushing it, even when people are not thrown in jail for being with someone of the same gender. 

“Why didn’t you?” Steve asks nearly breathless when Bucky wraps his fingers around his already hard cock.

“Seemed like too much of a risk.” Bucky moves to touch his forehead on Steve’s, stroking him slow, fingers just tight enough, thumb pressing over the vein, making Steve focus on the throb of his heart. “But I figure we can now outrun any cops that might try and bust us.”

Steve laughs at it, and pushes the probable consequences of being caught for public indecency away from his mind. Bucky kisses him once more, swift and hard, and drops down on his knees. Steve has only a fraction of a second to brace himself against toppling over before Bucky’s mouth is on him, hot and insistent, left hand grasping his hip hard enough to bruise, keeping Steve still and exactly when Bucky wants him.

There are a million things going around in Steve’s head, for the few seconds when his brain is still working. Part of him wishes it wasn’t so dark, he desperately wants to see Bucky, wants to see his lips sliding over his cock, wants to see if he’s closed his eyes or if he’s looking up to him. Biggest thing is relief, every facet of it, having Bucky close, having made it through the separation, and just the simple fact he’s missed sex, missed it specifically with Bucky. It’s nothing alike with anyone else. 

Steve lets go of the train of thought then, concentrates purely on feeling. He lets his eyes close since there’s nothing to look at, and just feels. There’s the hot slide of Bucky’s mouth, the fingers circling the base of his cock, other hand grasping at his hip, holding him in place. Bucky’s really going at it, not teasing or trying to prolong it. Clearly the goal is just to get Steve off as fast as possible. 

Steve settles his hands on Bucky, caresses his face, feeling the day’s stubble growth on his cheek, hollowed with sucking. Bucky shifts, turns his head so that Steve can feel his cock inside Bucky’s mouth, and he lets out a sigh that’s really more like a whimper. Bucky laughs at it, the vibration traveling right into Steve, and pulls back, only the tip of his tongue exploring Steve’s slit. The cools air on wet skin makes Steve shiver and he buries his fingers into Bucky’s hair. Bucky lets himself be pulled closer, takes Steve into his mouth again, and redoubles his efforts, sucking hard.

Steve sees stars and he’s so close, just about to tumble over into climax, and he covers his mouth, bites down at his sleeve to keep from moaning out loud. He tugs at Bucky’s hair just a bit in warning before he comes, and Bucky sucks him through it, only letting go when Steve is finished.

Afterward all Steve can do is concentrate on staying up, panting hard, and Bucky has tucked him in and zipped up his jeans before Steve is again balanced enough to haul him up into a kiss. Steve can taste himself in Bucky’s mouth when he licks in, and it makes the arousal rush back. He doesn’t even think of it when he gets his hands on Bucky’s pants, wanting to reciprocate since Bucky is still hard. Only he doesn’t get anywhere before Bucky takes a hold of his wrists.

“We should go somewhere more comfortable, I want to take time with this,” Bucky says, his lips brushing Steve’s.

Steve pulls him in for another kiss. “Whatever you want, Buck. It’s not like I’ll be the one to die of blue balls.”

Bucky laughs against his mouth and starts toward the boardwalk pulling Steve by his hand.

***

Steve wakes up with the sun warming his skin, sheets bunched across his waist. The room is unfamiliar, but he doesn’t care, because the most important thing is that Bucky is there right next to him. Steve’s nose is nearly pressed to Bucky’s hip since Bucky’s sitting up, resting against his pillow, looking down as Steve rolls onto his back to stretch.

Bucky runs his hand through Steve’s hair, and Steve presses into the touch, still starved for it even after hours spent pressed against each other, inside each other last night. Steve feels it even now, the slight soreness in his inner thighs, finger shaped bruises at his hips. Bucky bears marks as well, fading but still visible. There had been another realization last night too, the delight of not having to worry about breaking his partner the way he hasn’t been able to since the serum. Bucky can take it all, can give as good as he gets. Steve thinks it’s probably for the best that they’d gone to Bucky’s instead of Steve’s hotel room, since Bucky doesn’t have a bed frame, only a mattress on the floor. No regular bed frame would have survived last night intact.

“Natasha told me you had your head scrambled.”

Bucky’s fingers are still drawing patterns in Steve’s scalp and the question is so unexpected it takes Steve a moment to arrange his thoughts. Steve opens his eyes, looks up to the ceiling above him, and it’s familiar and yet alien; ever since the memory loss he’s spent countless hours staring into ceiling, but never like this, never with Bucky.

“It was a spell that did it, that Asgardian. Wanda and Strange said they put it all back, but you know. It doesn’t mean there aren’t lingering effects.”

Bucky slides down to lie on his back and pulls Steve to rest on top of him. “Yeah, I know. So are you dealing with it for real or just putting up a convincing front?”

Steve props himself up, enough to be able to look at Bucky, because he wants Bucky to believe. “I’m dealing, honest. It’s hard sometimes, still, but I’ve gotten better with it.”

Bucky takes a moment to assess him, his gaze sharp, and nods. “I still don’t remember all of my life, probably never will.”

“It’s okay, I told you.”

“I know, you don’t care about that. I believe you.” Bucky smiles at Steve again, and it’s the truth too. Steve settles back down, rests his head on Bucky’s chest, letting the steady heartbeat lull him into calmness.

“It’s weird, the things that get to me,” Steve confesses. “Sometimes I remember the taste of Ma’s apple cake, and wonder if I’ve got it right, wonder if there’s something else that she used to make that I loved but don’t remember.”

Bucky runs his hand up and down Steve’s back. “Her apple cake was the best. It’s weird she was so good with it, when on the other hand, think of her bread.”

“Always too heavy, never any air in it.” Steve laughs, he remembers and is glad Bucky does too. There were afternoons when he was too sick to go to school, so Bucky came in with his homework and they did it together, eating the meager supper of too stiff bread and reheated soup.

Steve drifts into sleep for a bit, right there on top of Bucky, the wandering hands on his skin soothing him, chasing away dreams. When he’s more awake again he realizes Bucky’s not quite as relaxed as he was before.

“What is it?” Steve tries to make the question neutral, tries not to let out his fear that Bucky’s decided he doesn’t want this after all.

“I still can’t be an Avenger with you,” Bucky says, and the worry melts away.

Steve props himself up to look at Bucky again. “I’m not expecting you to, I know you don’t want to fight, and you should do whatever you want to. It’s okay.” Steve tries to be as convincing as he’s ever been, and he probably manages, because Bucky relaxes.

“I’ll come if there’s some major crisis again, but otherwise, I’ve got all these skills that have been used to hurt people, so now I want to use them to make people safer, in their everyday life, not just from the major crises.”

Steve hugs Bucky tighter. “I get it, I do. And honestly I think it’s great what you do, it’s worth so much. I still need to stay with the Avengers, at least for a while, but we’ll make time for us. People keep telling me I need to get away from the compound more, and I suspect you’ve got a few ideas to make me see the benefits.”

Steve grins at Bucky whose answering smile is slow and goes right down to Steve’s cock. Before he has time to react Steve finds himself on his back, Bucky mouthing at his throat.

“I do have some ideas, would you like me to demonstrate?”

Steve surrenders fully into the weight of Bucky over him, the way he never has and never will for anyone else.

“Please.”

***

It’s a lot later, and they’ve ended up on the floor, Steve’s head resting on Bucky’s stomach. He’s more relaxed than he remembers being in ages, almost drunk with happiness.

“I want to get married to you for real,” Steve says, knowing it might be stupid, too fast despite the promises they’ve made. Too heavy because of all the history between them, but Bucky doesn’t tense, just keeps running his fingers through Steve’s hair.

“I thought we agreed back then it was real enough for us, for all that it was known only to the two of us.”

“It was real,” Steve agrees. “But I don’t want to be the only one who knows anymore.”

“It’ll probably cause a few apoplexies.” Bucky sounds amused and tugs at Steve’s hair in a way that makes Steve briefly consider whether he’s recovered enough for yet another round.

“True. All the more reason to get married, I say.” Steve rolls to his side to look at Bucky. “So are we going to go and get a license as soon as they’re open or not?”

Bucky’s smile is as brilliant as Steve has ever seen. “You know we are.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also on [tumblr](http://stellahibernis.tumblr.com/post/164901168952/trying-to-spell-both-our-names-at-once).


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